UC-NRLF 


GIFT   OF 


V 


KNOWLEDGE  AND   PRACTICE 


BY 


JAMES  EDWIN  CREIGHTON 


AN  ADDRESS 

Delivered   Before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society 
of  Brown  University 

JUNE  1 5th,  1909 


[Reprinted  from  the  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  Vol.  XX] 


KNOWLEDGE  AND  PEACTICE.* 

J.    E.    CKEIGHTON. 

T  WISH  to  begin  by  congratulating  the  chapter  of  Phi 
Beta  Kappa  that  has  its  home  at  Brown  University 
on  its  long  and  honorable  traditions,  and  especially  on 
the  eminent  services  that  its  members,  through  successive 
generations,  have  rendered  to  science,  to  education,  and 
to  public  life.  When  I  recall  even  a  few  names  from  that 
long  roll  of  "illustrious  living  and  noble  dead"  who  owe 
their  nurture  and  inspiration  to  this  University  and  to 
this  Society,  I  can  appreciate  the  feelings  with  which  you 
are  assembled  for  your  annual  celebration,  and  am  deeply 
sensible  of  the  honor  of  being  invited  to  address  you  on 
this  occasion. 

The  motto  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  society,  "Philoso- 
phy the  pilot  of  life,"  furnishes  the  text  for  the  reflec- 
tions that  I  have  to  lay  before  you  to-day.  This  motto 
suggests  the  famous  saying  of  Socrates  in  the  "Apology," 
that  a  life  without  criticism  or  examination  is  not  a  life 
worth  living  for  a  human  being.  For  ^Tioao^ia  in  your 
motto,  as  I  understand  it,  signifies  just  the  free  exercise 
of  thought  that  finds  its  function  in  examining  and  test- 
ing the  opinions  and  beliefs  that  pass  current  in  ordinary 
life.  It  is  this  faculty  of  reflecting  on  experience,  and 
finding  its  value  in  terms  of  some  general  principles,  that 
differentiates  the  life  of  man  from  that  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals. Philosophy  in  this  sense,  as  reflection,  or  the  effort 
to  estimate  the  meanings  and  values  that  are  involved 
in  different  experiences  of  life,  may  be  said  to  be  the  es- 
sential birthright  of  man,  and  is  always  present  in  some 
degree  in  every  human  consciousness.  The  term  *  reflec- 
tion' may  suggest  that  this  activity  is  something  external 

*  Address  delivered  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  at  Brown  Uni- 
versity, June,  1909. 

1 


2890 


to,  or  that  supervenes  upon,  the  ordinary  experience  of 
men.  But  it  is  no  foreign  or  borrowed  gleam  that  reflec- 
tion throws  upon  our  ideas,  but  the  internal  light  of  rea- 
son itself,  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into 
the  world.  Thinking  is  not  therefore  a  mere  incident, 
secondary  intention,  as  it  were,  of  human  life.  Nor  do 
we  adequately  characterize  its  relation  to  life  when  we 
emphasize  its  utility  as  the  essential  instrument  and  in-  ^x 
dispensable  guide  of  practice.  Keflection,  as  the  free  ^* 
and  unrestricted  play  of  ideas,  is  ratEer  to  be  regarded 
as  the  essential  business  or  primary  intention  of  human 
life.  Philosophy  is  thus  no  foreign  pilot  that  has  been 
taken  on  board,  but  the  expression  of  what  is  most  truly 
and  intimately  the  individual's  own  nature.  It  is  not 
merely  regulative,  but  constitutive  of  life,  being  the  heart 
and  center  from  which  flow  all  its  practical  activities,  and 
to  which  they  all  again  return  for  constant  adjustment 
and  renewal.  It  is  the  ever-present  fountain  of  youth, 
the  vivifying  and  transforming  element  of  our  experience 
which  has  the  power  to  make  all  things  new.  Without  it, 
our  highest  activities  would  be  blind  and  mechanical,  our 
righteousness  would  be  like  the  righteousness  of  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  having  no  connection  with  the  in- 
nermost center  of  our  personality.  For  mere  practical 
activities  tend  to  become  mechanical  and  perpetuate  them- 
selves through  habit;  and  when  they  lose  all  connection 
with  the  reflective  source  of  rational  life,  they  are  incapa- 
ble of  maintaining  their  spiritual  vitality  and  become^ 
empty  forms  without  substance. 

When  we  thus  attempt  to  regard  life  in  its  true  ideal 
significance,  to  see  life  steadily  and  to  see  it  whole,  it  seems 
possible  to  rise  above  the  opposition  between  knowledge 
and  practice.  Nevertheless,  it  may  be  said,  this  is  a  mere 
counsel  of  perfection,  an  ideal  that  cannot  be  realized 
under  the  actual  conditions  that  constitute  our  finite  and 
fragmentary  mode  of  existence.  We  find  that,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  there  is  a  tendency  to  separate,  and  oftentimes 
to  sharply  oppose,  these  two  aspects  of  experience,  giving 


either  one  the  primacy,  and  regarding  the  other  as  of  sec- 
ondary or  merely  derivative  importance.  Knowledge, 
for  example,  is  sometimes  regarded  as  the  pilot  of  life  in 
the  sense  that  it  is  the  indispensable  instrument  for  the 
attainment  of  practical  ends,  the  means  through  which 
man  gains  mastery  over  the  forces  of  material  nature  or 
discovers  a  common  basis  for  cooperation  with  his  fel- 
low-men. From  this  point  of  view,  ideas  are  valued  in 
terms  of  their  usefulness  in  practical  application,  and 
there  naturally  arises  a  certain  impatience  with  regard 
to  knowledge  that  is  not  directed  toward  some  practical 
end.  On  the  other  hand,  those  who  live  the  reflective  life 
are  apt  to  take  up  an  equally  one-sided  position  in  defense 
of  knowledge  against  the  claims  of  practice.  They  are 
too  often  ready  to  maintain  that  ideas  are  debased  and 
contaminated  by  being  applied  to  practical  affairs,  and 
that  knowledge  is  higher  and  purer  when  it  remains 
isolated  in  the  realm  of  the  pure  idea. 

It  is  perhaps  true  that  this  is  not  an  altogether  just 
characterization  of  the  position  of  those  who  are  un- 
willing to  subordinate  knowledge  to  practice  or  to  evalu- 
ate ideas  in  any  offhand  way  in  terms  of  their  practical 
consequences.  Yet  I  think  the  champions  of  knowledge 
for  its  own  sake  have  not  infrequently  been  led  to  define 
knowledge  in  a  purely  negative  and  abstract  way  as 
against  practice,  seeking  to  vindicate  the  claims  of  the  in- 
tellectual life  by  separating  it  too  sharply  from  the  func- 
tions and  offices  through  which  it  expresses  itself.  To 
separate  knowledge  from  life,  as  something  that  might 
be  contaminated  by  life's  everyday  demands  and  uses,  is 
to  take  up  an  indefensible  position.  In  so  far  as  this 
attitude  has  existed,  the  prevailing  demand  that  knowl- 
edge shall  justify  itself  is  a  reasonable  protest  against 
an  interpretation  that  not  only  robs  knowledge  of  practical 
significance,  but,  in  so  doing,  also  renders  it  empty  and 
impossible  from  an  intellectual  standpoint.  For  in  the 
midst  of  our  disputes  about  the  relative  importance  of 
knowledge  and  action,  it  may  at  least  be  recognized  that 


either  one,  when  taken  in  complete  isolation  from  the  other, 
becomes  contradictory  and  self-destructive ;  the  most  un- 
practical of  all  men  being  he  who  is  narrowly  or  exclu- 
sively practical,  and  the  stupidest  and  most  unenlight- 
ened man,  he  who  deals  only  in  abstract  principles  which 
have  no  relation  to  what  is  real  and  concrete. 

In  maintaining  the  value  and  dignity  of  knowledge,  as 
is  done  by  this  society,  there  is  involved  no  antagonism  to 
what  is  practical ;  on  the  contrary,  your  motto  emphasizes 
the  essential  and  necessary  relation  between  knowledge 
and  life.  What,  however,  is  fundamentally  antagonistic 
to  the  spirit  and  traditions  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  society 
is  that  practical  attitude  which  lays  exclusive  or  primary 
emphasis  upon  external  goods,  which  can  have,  at  best, 
only  a  subordinate  place  as  means  or  instruments  in  a 
rational  life.  We-must^  distinguish  sharply  between  what 
is  truly  practical  for  a  maiTSTd^what  the  word  usually  im- 
plies. It  is,  however,  impossible  to  reconcile  the  conflict- 
ing positions  by  any  mere  definition  of  terms.  There  ex- 
ists a  genuine  and  radical  antagonism  between  philoso- 
phy, as  the  love  of  wisdom,  the  pursuit  of  that  which  is 
in  itself  real,  and  the  demand  for  practical  efficiency, 
that  which  will  yield  some  tangible  cash  value  in  a  given 
situation. 

It  would  be  idle  to  conceal  from  ourselves  that  truth 
is  about  the  last  thing  the  average  mind  esteems  or  de- 
sires. The  practical  man  is  always  impatient  of  the  per- 
son who  insists  on  facts  or  principles,  despising  these  as 
not  leading  to  immediate  results.  The  spirit  of  the  world, 
as  Morley  aptly  satirizes  it,  is  that  "thoroughness  is  a  mis- 
take, and  nailing  your  flag  to  the  mast  a  bit  of  delusive 
heroics.  Think  wholly  of  to-day,  and  not  at  all  of  to-mor- 
row. Beware  of  the  high,  and  hold  fast  to  the  safe. 
Dismiss  convictions  and  study  the  general  consensus.  No 
zeal,  no  faith,  no  intellectual  trenchancy,  but  as  much  low- 
minded  geniality  and  trivial  complaisance  as  you  please." 
Cynical  as  these  counsels  sound  when  thus  baldly  stated, 
they  can  scarcely  be  said  to  exaggerate  the  prevailing 


5 

worldly  spirit  of  the  man  who  prides  himself  on  his  prac- 
tical good  sense.  It  is  not  the  mere  absence  of  light  that 
is  depressing,  but  the  open  contempt  for  truth  as  some- 
thing that  is  without  significance  in  the  affairs  of  life.  It 
may  appear  to  the  young  man  going  out  into  life  that  the 
practical  forces  are  so  strong  and  all-pervasive  at  the 
present  time  that  the  only  pu»4ent  course  is  to  capitulate 
and  learn  the  rules  of  the  game.  But,  after  all,  if  his  col- 
lege life  and  the  fellowship  of  societies  like  this  have  given 
him  any  glimpse  of  ideal  values,  his  loss  of  courage  can 
only  be  momentary.  It  is  encouraging  to  remember  that 
the  history  of  the  conflict  between  the  ideal  and  the  prac- 
tical is  the  history  of  civilization,  and  that  numbers  have 
never  been  able  to  overhelm  the  cause  we  represent.  The 
history  of  success  is  the  history  of  minorities. 

The  forces  that  war  against  light  and  knowledge  in  the 
name  of  practical  expediency  assume  various  forms,  aad 
s  em^timos  pjwrgsy-^tbem-seJrvee-^bftmpi^na  of  the  highest 
spi  r  i  tuaLJjiteeete;  They  may  perhaps  be  classified  un- 
der two  heads:  materialism,  which  demands  that  the 
fruits  of  knowledge  be  forthcoming  in  terms  of  external 
goods  of  some  kind,  and  practical  or  sentimental  ideal- 
ism, which  is  likewise  eager  for  quick  return  of  profits 


d  impadont   .ilh  fllurrTdtot  that  deea 
y  tb  the  ameliuialiun  'of  '"tfarlifer-trf- 


an      mpa 
dirootl    tb 


The  influence  of  materialism  is  not  due  to 
the  strength  of  its  arguments;  in  fact,  nothing  is  easier 
than  to  show  theoretically  that  the  evaluation  of  life  in 
terms  of  material  goods  is  thoroughly  short-sighted  and 
unpractical.  But  the  appeal  of  materialism  is  rather  to 
the  desires  than  to  the  reason.  It  works  through  the  long- 
ing that  individuals  feel  for  honor  or  wealth  or  personal 
enjoyment,  or  even  presents  itself  in  the  name  of  the  in- 
tellectual or  aesthetic  life,  as  a  demand  for  the  means  of 
cultivation  and  self-realization.  These  influences  are  so 
subtle  and  insidious,  as  well  as  so  constant  and  pervasive, 
that  the  individual  is  often  led  captive  unawares,  the 
good  seed  of  idealism  being  gradually  choked  by  the 


cares  of  the  world,  and  the  effort  required  to  maintain 
one's  position  as  a  man  of  affairs  and  to  rank  well  with 
one's  fellows.  However,  the  practice  of  materialism 
soon  leads  to  its  expression  in  theory.  When  the  indif- 
ference to  ideas  is  holdly  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  cyn- 
ical theory,  or,  worse  still  if  possible,  in  the  Polonius-like 
advice  to  young  men  to  throw  aside  ideas  and  aim  at  prac- 
tical things,  the  paralysis  of  mind  and  soul  have  become 
complete,  truth  and  the  love  of  wisdom  being  expressly 
repudiated. 

However  seductive  the  rewards  of  material  success,  the 
futility  of  making  these  things  the  ends  of  life  is,  on  re- 
flection, clearly  enough  apparent.  But  the  case  is  differ- 
ent when  appeal  is  made  to  the  desire  to  attain  practical 
results  of  a  higher  order.  The  desire  to  serve  society, 
to  benefit  one's  fellow-men,  is  one  of  the  noblest  impulses 
of  human  nature,  and  appeals  strongly  to  men  of  idealistic 
temperament.  It  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
increase  of  this  spirit  is  one  of  the  most  hopeful  mani- 
festations of  our  own  time,  implying,  as  it  does,  a  grow- 
ing consciousness  of  the  profound  truth  that  we  are  all 
members  one  of  another.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  real 
danger,  I  venture  to  think,  in  the  philanthropic  ideal  when 
taken  as  an  ultimate  or  exclusive  end  of  life,  and  thus  op- 
posed to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  The  danger  is  that  at- 
tention may  become  so  exclusively  fixed  on  practical  results 
as  to  lead  to  impatience  with  the  slow  processes  of 
thought,  and  thus  to  a  contempt  for  truth  as  opposed  to 
what  seems  for  the  time  being  to  be  the  good  of  the  in- 
dividual or  society.  And  it  scarcely  needs  to  be  pointed 
out  that,  when  this  happens,  the  good  will  is  itself  per- 
verted. There  is  a  strange  paradox  in  all  spiritual  life, 
yet  a  paradox  that  ceases  to  be  perplexing  when  we  re- 
member that  the  mind  is  not  a  collection  of  separately  act- 
ing faculties,  but  an  organic  whole.  The  paradox  to 
which  I  refer  is  not  merely  that  the  corruption  of  the  best 
is  the  worst,  but  that  even  the  best  thoughts  and  motives, 
when  over-emphasized  and  taken  apart  from  the  other  ele- 


ments  with  which  they  are  naturally  and  normally  associ- 
ated, prove  contradictory,  and  are  transformed  into  their 
opposites.     Thus  the  desire  to  benefit  society,  when  dis- 
sociated from  the  love  for  knowledge,  soon  degenerates 
into  the  extremest  and  emptiest  form  of  egoism,  into  the 
desire  for  power  or  honor;  or  it  leads  straightway  to  the 
conviction  that  the  practical  end  is  so  important  that  it 
must  be  realized  at  once  and  at  all  costs.    It  is  never  safe 
to  love  anything  better  than  truth,  no  matter  how  high 
or  holy  it  may  appear  to  be.    "He  who  begins  by  loving  j 
Christianity  better  than  truth,"  says  Coleridge,  "will  pro- 1 
ceed  by  loving  his  own  sect  or  church  better  than  Chris-  j 
tianity,  and  end  by  loving  himself  better  than  all."    As 
John  Morley  puts  it: 


The  law  of  things  is  that  they  who  tamper  with  veracity,  from  whatever 
motive,  are  tampering  with  the  vital  force  of  human  progress.  Our  comfort, 
and  the  delight  of  the  religious  imagination,  are  no  better  than  forms  of  self- 
indulgence  when  they  are  secured  at  the  cost  of  that  love  of  truth  on  which, 
more  than  on  anything  else,  the  increase^^Jight  and  happiness  among  men 
must  depend.  We  have  to  fight  and  cfl  Blong  battle  against  the  forces 
of  darkness,  and  anything  that  turns  tlBBfge  of  reason  blunts  the  surest 
and  most  potent  of  our  weapons. 


I  shall  try,  a  little  lata:,  to  show  that  the  intellectual 
life,  in  its  most  comple^^xercise,  includes  within  itself 
the  highest  practical  activities.  There  can  be  no  ulti- 
mate opposition  between  truth  and  goodness,  between  the 
ends  of  the  intellectual  and  the  moral  life,  when  these  are 
rightly  understood.  At  present,  however,  I  am  rather 
concerned  to  point  out  how  the  prevailing  emphasis  on 
practice,  although  in  its  two  forms  seeming  to  appeal  to 
quite  a  different  order  of  motives,  leads  in  both  cases  alike 
to  an  indifference  to  ideas  that  is  destructive  of  the  high- 
est results. 

I  have  put  the  matter  in  this  way,,  dwelling  on  the  an- 
tagonism between  the  ideals  of  your  society  and  the  pre- 
vailing tendencies,  not  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
discouragement,  but  rather,  so  far  as  I  may,  to  sound  a 
trumpet  and  to  summon  you  to  arms.  And,  as  is  usually 
the  case,  the  foes  within  are  here  more  dangerous  than 


8 


the  foes  without.  The  greatest  danger  is  that  the  prevail- 
ing skepticism  shall  effect  an  entrance  into  our  own  minds 
and  thus  paralyze  our  efforts  in  behalf  of  learning.  At 
the  present  time,  it  is  essential,  above  everything  else,  that 
scholars,  and  the  universities  as  the  representatives  of 
scholarship,  should  renew  their  faith  in  the  sovereignty 
and  efficacy  of  truth.  May  it  not  be,  that  the  indiffer- 
ence to  learning  on  the  part  of  undergraduates  of  which 
we  are  hearing  so  much  at  the  present  time,  is  to  some  ex- 
tent the  outcome  and  reflection  of  our  own  skepticism  and 
worldliness  ?  Unless  scholars  can  keep  alive  in  their  own 
hearts  the  love  of  truth,  unless  they  are  really  absorbed 
in  its  pursuit,  they  cannot  hope  to  inspire  others  with 
reverence  for  knowledge  as  for  something  high  and  noble. 
The  fault  must  lie  in  ourselves  and  not  in  our  stars.  Even 
when  circumstances  seem  most  unpromising,  the  love  of 
truth  is  a  motive  to  which  one  may  always  confidently 
appeal.  Next  to  distr^^ng  his  own  reason,  for  the 
scholar  the  most  fatal  s^Bs  to  assume  that  truth  has  no 
power  to  awaken  a  resprase  in  the  minds  of  others.  In- 
deed, these  are  both  expressions  of  the  same  paralyzing 
skeptical  attitude.  To  distrusljtuman  reason  is  to  for- 
get the  fundamental  fact  that  a^nowledge  of  the  genuine 
nature  of  reality  is,  as  Plato  says,  the  true  nourishment 
of  the  soul,  and  that  it  languishes  and  dies  when  it  turns 
away  from  truth  and  feeds  upon  opinion.  Indifference 
to  truth  can  never  long  maintain  itself,  in  the  face  of  light 
and  conviction.  It  is  vain,  said  Kant,  to  pretend  to  be 
indifferent  regarding  questions  to  which  the  human  rea- 
son, from  its  very  nature,  can  never  be  indifferent. 

The  first  duty  of  the  scholar,  then,  when  he  appears  to  be 
surrounded  by  hostile  forces,  is  to  keep  his  own  light 
trimmed  and  burning: 

To  abate  not  one  jot  of  heart  or  hope 
But  steer  right  onwards. 

And  he  may  derive  encouragement  by  reminding  him- 
self that  the  cause  of  civilization  is  bound  up  with  the 


maintenance  of  ideas,  with  the  perpetuation  of  the  spirit 
of  free  inquiry.  The  cause  in  which  he  is  enlisted  is  far- 
reaching,  and  of  the  highest  importance.  Without  the 
work  of  the  scholar  who  acknowledges  as  his  master  no 
other  sovereign  than  truth,  who  restricts  his  inquiries  by 
no  practical  or  instrumental  considerations,  the  spirit  of 
freedom  would  perish  from  the  earth.  Not  only  would 
no  real  advances  in  the  moral  or  intellectual  life  be  possi- 
ble, but  with  the  free  exercise  of  thought  there  would  soon 
pass  away  the  higher  ideas  and  ideals  that  form  the  basis 
of  our  civilization.  What  the  practical  man  holds  in 
light  esteem,  the  scholar's  work  of  promoting  and  keep- 
ing alive  the  cultural  ideas  that  form  the  basis  of  civiliza- 
tion, regarding  it  as  effeminate  or  unfit  for  a  man  with 
red  blood  in  his  veins,  is,  on  reflection,  seen  to  be  the  most 
practical  and  important  concern  of  humanity.  And,  simi- 
larly, the  disinterested  pursuit  of  ideas,  that  often  appears 
to  the  man  enthusiastic  for  practical  reforms  to  be  noth- 
ing more  than  a  refined  kind  of  selfishness,  shows  itself 
as  the  necessary  basis  and  support  for  the  moral  life. 
"The  love  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,"  says  Locke, 
"is  the  principal  part  of  human  perfection,  and  the  seed- 
plot  of  all  the  virtues.  "f  There  is  therefore  no  ground 
for  discouragement  at  the  present  time;  and  above  all 
no  reason  for  the  scholar  to  feel  that  his  day  is  over,  that 
his  place  is  to  be  taken  by  the  practical  inventor  or  the 
politician  or  philanthropist  who  can  show  results  that  are 
valuable  to  society. 

It  may  help  to  give  force  to  these  considerations,  and  to 
make  them  more  concrete,  if  we  consider  their  application 
more  specifically  to  some  of  the  problems  of  university 
life  at  the  present  time.  As  is  well-known,  very  serious 
criticisms  have  been  recently  brought  against  the  educa- 
tional results  that  are  being  attained  by  the  colleges  and 
universities  of  the  country,  and  various  causes  have  been 
assigned  as  explanations  of  existing  evils,  and  a  variety  of 
remedies  proposed.  Now,  even  if  we  agree  among  our- 
selves that  these  defects  have  been  set  forth  in  a  some- 


10 


what  sensational  way,  it  is  still  impossible  to  deny  that 
conditions  are  serious  enough  to  call  for  our  most  earnest 
attention.  It  must  be  admitted,  too,  that  the  faculties  and 
governing  bodies  of  these  institutions  have  to  accept  the 
primary  responsibility  for  existing  conditions,  and  that 
on  them  falls  the  duty  of  correcting  abuses.  I  have  no 
specific  remedies  to  propose,  but  I  feel  sure  that  any 
program  of  reform  must  proceed  from,  and  go  along  with, 
a  renewal  of  faith  in  the  value  of  ideas,  and  of  courage  in 
proclaiming  them  on  the  part  of  university  teachers.  It 
may  be  impossible  to  make  headway  directly  against  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  as  it  expresses  itself  outside  the  uni- 
versity; it  may  even  be  impossible  to  refuse  admission 
to  college  to  students  whose  aims  and  capacities  render 
them  to  a  great  extent  impervious  to  ideas ;  but  it  is  in- 
cumbent on  those  of  us  who  are  teachers  to  hold  up  a 
different  standard  and  to  maintain  an  asylum  where 
science  and  letters  may  be  preserved  and  advanced,  and 
from  which  they  may  go  forth  to  the  service  of  humanity. 
And  I  may  add  that  the  university  has  the  right  to  expect 
the  same  spirit  of  devotion  to  truth  from  her  loyal  alumni. 
To  be  loyal  to  the  university  involves  the  duty  of  being 
loyal  to  the  idea  of  a  university,*to  its  essential  spirit  and 
highest  purpose.  There  is  perhaps  nothing  so  thoroughly 
discouraging  to  a  university  teacher,  nothing  so  provoc- 
ative of  deep-seated  pessimism,  as  the  lack  of  sympathy 
often  shown  by  alumni  with  the  highest  aims  and  inter- 
ests of  their  alma  mater.  The  noisy  loyalty  that  dis- 
charges itself  solely  on  the  plane  of  sport  is  too  often  a 
hindrance,  rather  than  an  inspiration,  to  the  work  of 
the  faculty.  But,  after  all,  the  main  responsibility  for 
educational  results  must  rest  with  the  faculty;  and  the 
new  spirit,  if  it  is  to  come,  must  first  find  its  expression 
through  them.  I  have  attempted  to  state  some  familiar 
truths  regarding  the  essential  nature  of  the  scholar's 
vocation,  and  the  grounds  which  he  may  find  for  encour- 
agement, even  when  conditions  appear  most  unfavorable 
to  his  efforts.  But,  looking  at  the  matter  from  the  ac- 


11 


tual  position  in  which  the  individual  teacher  finds  himself 
to-day,  it  may  seem  that  these  considerations  are  mere 
empty  words,  and  that  as  things  are  they  will  remain.  It 
is  impossible,  it  may  be  urged,  for  either  the  teacher  or 
the  student  to  maintain  standards  essentially  different 
from  the  society  by  which  he  is  surrounded.  And,  more- 
over, even  if  we  grant  that  the  promotion  of  the  intel- 
lectual life  is  the  highest  possible  aim,  when  we  take  hu- 
man nature  and  actual  conditions  as  they  are,  have  we  any 
reasonable  hope  of  success  1  Have  not  our  demands  been 
too  high,  the  plan  of  education  too  far  removed  from  the 
interests  of  our  American  youth,  to  call  forth  their  ac- 
tivities ?  Let  us  come  down  from  the  heights,  and,  taking 
human  nature  as  it  is,  aim  at  practical  results,  at  giving 
our  young  men  a  training  for  life,  at  making  them  effi- 
cient leaders  of  business  and  qualifying  them  for  holding 
political  offices.  They  may  happily  in  the  process  acquire 
some  modicum  of  liberal  culture  and  some  respect  for 
ideas.  In  spite  of  the  element  of  truth  that  such  state- 
ments contain,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  they  point  en- 
tirely in  the  wrong  direction.  A  university  teacher  is 
not  the  man  to  talk  about  taking  human  nature  as  it  is,  or 
of  gratifying  the  actually  existing  interests  of  stu- 
dents. For  his  concern  is  with  human  nature  as  it  ought 
to  be,  his  function  to  awaken  and  call  out  interests  that 
are  yet  only  latent  and  which  the  student  may  not  yet 
know  that  he  possesses.  It  is  a  poor  philosophy  to  take 
human  nature  as  it  is,  and  to  fail  to  bear  in  mind  that 
which  it  is  capable  of  becoming.  Moreover,  if  the  uni- 
versity cannot  maintain  any  higher  ideals,  or  appeal  to 
different  interests,  than  those  which  are  dominant  in  the 
outside  world,  what  reason  is  there  for  its  continuing  to 
exist?  The  practical  preparation  for  life  may  be  better 
obtained  in  professional  schools  or  in  contact  with  the 
actual  conditions  of  business  life. 

The  question  of  the  relation  of  the  university  teacher 
to  practical  life  is  most  important,  and  one  that  demands 
serious  consideration.  It  may  be  that  here  is  one  source 


12 

of  his  weakness.  The  older  type  of  college  professor  was, 
as  a  rule,  much  less  actively  engaged  in  practical  affairs 
than  their  successors  are  to-day.  As  a  rule,  too,  the 
teachers  in  the  great  European  universities  occupy  them- 
selves much  less  with  practical  matters  than  we  do.  They 
accept  scholarship  and  teaching  as  their  high  vocation, 
reckoning  other  things  as  for  them  of  altogether  second- 
ary importance.  But,  among  ourselves,  the  unpractical 
type  of  college  professor,  who  lived  in  the  world  of  ideas 
and  was  somewhat  oblivious  to  mundane  affairs,  is 
rapidly  vanishing.  In  the  "Bepublic"  Plato  speaks  of 
the  necessity  of  compelling  the  philosophers  to  resign  for 
a  time  the  contemplation  of  the  idea  and  to  take  part  in 
the  affairs  of  the  state.  At  the  present  time,  however, 
there  seems  to  be  no  compulsion  necessary  in  order  to  in- 
duce scholars  to  take  up  practical  pursuits.  It  is  so 
much  easier  to  act  than  to  think!  We  not  only  waste 
our  strength  on  all  kinds  of  practical  questions  regard- 
ing the  organization  and  administration  of  the  university, 
but  we  are  also  ready  to  lead  reform  movements  in  church 
and  state,  direct  charities,  organize  conventions,  or  give 
advice  on  any  practical  subject  whatsoever,  under  the 
pleasant  conviction  that  we  are  rendering  important  pub- 
lic service,  and  also  demonstrating  that  the  college  pro- 
fessor of  to-day  is  a  very  wide-awake,  practical  person. 
Of  course,  all  these  activities  may  be  good,  but  do  they 
not  tend  to  distract  the  mind  of  the  scholar  from  his  own 
proper  business  ?  The  good  may  easily  become  the  enemy 
of  the  best ;  and  the  best  and  highest  for  every  man  is  his 
own  station  and  its  duties.  Where  the  line  is  to  be  drawn 
in  any  case  is  a  question  for  the  individual.  How  far 
any  college  teacher  may  find  it  possible  to  engage  in  prac- 
tical affairs  will  depend  partly  on  his  temperament,  and 
partly  on  the  degree  of  absorption  that  his  own  particu- 
lar studies  demand.  But,  if  he  finds  that  these  things 
tend  to  distract  his  mind,  and  to  dull  the  edge  of  his 
scholarly  interest,  let  him  not  lay  the  flattering  unction  to 
his  soul  that  he  is  doing  something  higher  and  more  im- 


13 


portant.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  highest  effi- 
ciency for  the  scholar  and  teacher  requires  that  he  should 
sit  apart  from  the  practical  world.  He  must,  in  a  sense, 
renounce  the  world,  and  live  in  the  inner  realm  of  ideas, 
never  allowing  the  things  of  sense  and  time  to  occupy  the 
chief  place  in  his  heart.  This  does  not  imply  that  he  is  to 
be  oblivious  to  what  is  taking  place  around  him  or  in- 
different to  the  interests  of  the  society  in  which  he  lives. 
But  he  must  realize  that  he  can  serve  those  interests  best 
by  devoting  himself  to  his  own  proper  work,  by  laboring 
to  the  utmost  of  his  strength  that  the  truth  which  it  is 
his  duty  to  teach  be  not  error,  that  the  light  within  his  own 
soul  be  not  darkness.  He  must  be  in  the  world  but  not 
of  the  world,  having  made  the  advancement  and  propa- 
gation of  learning  the  great  end  and  object  of  his  exist- 
ence. It  is,  of  course,  true  that  this  breed  of  men  has 
not  entirely  disappeared  from  the  faculties  of  our  colleges 
and  universities.  Otherwise,  our  condition  would  be 
hopeless  indeed.  But  I  think  there  are  comparatively 
few  teachers  who  will  not  admit  that  the  pressure  of  out- 
side distractions  is  seriously  interfering  with  their  de- 
votion to  scholarship  and  dulling  their  finer  enthusiasm 
for  truth.  t  i  The  world  is  too  much  with  us ; "  we  are  too 
anxious  and  troubled  about  many  things,  and  tend  to 
neglect  the  one  thing  needful.  And  truth  is  a  jealous 
mistress,  who  will  not  grant  favors  to  him  who  serves 
her  with  half  a  heart. 

Moreover,  there  is  no  other  motive  than  reverence  for 
truth  that  will  supply  moral  fiber  strong  enough  to  with- 
stand the  temptation,  under  which  the  teacher  always 
labors,  to  obtain  immediate  results  by  pleasing  his  hear- 
ers, by  giving  them  something  that  will  appeal  to  their 
immediate  interests  and  fancies,  something  that  will  pro- 
duce an  immediate  effect.  The  desire  to  influence  one's 
students  in  a  practical  way — even  to  make  them  better 
morally — is  no  proper  substitute  for  the  effort  to  lead 
them  to  think  clearly  and  independently,  and  with  a  ven- 
eration for  truth  to  follow  the  argument  wherever  it  leads. 


14 


Without  this  element,  instruction  degenerates  into  a  mere 
play  of  subjective  opinions,  and  furnishes  no  true  nour- 
ishment for  the  mind.  "The  hungry  sheep  look  up  and 
are  not  fed."  When  the  guiding  principle  is  lost,  there 
is  danger  that  the  relations  between  teacher  and  student 
may  tend  toward  the  condition  which  Plato  has  described 
in  the  "Bepublic,"  as  characteristic  of  the  democratic 
state : 

"The  teacher,  in  these  circumstances,"  he  says,  "fears  and  flatters  his 
students,  and  the  students  despise  their  masters  and  tutors.  And,  speaking 
generally,  the  young  copy  their  elders  and  enter  the  lists  with  them  in  speak- 
ing and  acting;  and  the  elders  unbend  so  far  as  to  abound  in  wit  and 
pleasantry,  in  imitation  of  the  young,  in  order,  as  they  say,  to  avoid  seem- 
ing morose  or  exacting. ' ' 

It  may  perhaps  be  said,  however,  in  defense  of  the 
practical  teacher,  that  the  main  business  of  the  universi- 
ties is  not  to  make  scholars,  but  to  train  up  men  for  the 
professions  and  for  the  service  of  the  state.  The  most 
valuable  and  efficient  teachers,  therefore,  will  be  men  of 
the  world  who  can  give  the  student  the  outlook  on  life 
of  the  practical  man  and  instruction  in  what  will  be  of 
value  to  him  when  he  leaves  the  university.  There  are 
two  things  that  may  be  said  in  reply  to  this  objection. 
In  the  first  place,  it  would  seem  to  have  much  more  force 
when  applied  to  the  instruction  demanded  by  professional 
schools  and  colleges  than  to  the  colleges  of  arts  and  sci- 
ences, of  which  I  am  now  speaking.  And,  secondly,  it 
cannot  be  granted  that  it  is  necessary  to  be  engrossed  in 
the  affairs  of  the  world  in  order  to  understand  it.  The 
spectator  of  time  and  existence?  the  man  who  would  pene- 
trate deeply  into  the  meaning  of  things,  must  sit  apart 
and  observe  and  reflect.  It  is  only  thus  that  he  can  at- 
tain an  objective  point  of  view;  his  vision  is  obscured 
by  too  near  a  prospect  or  by  being  himself  in  the  heat  of 
the  conflict.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  the  majority  of  the 
students  who  attend  the  universities  will  not  devote  their 
lives  to  scholarship.  Nevertheless,  it  is  a  mistake  on  the 
part  of  the  university  to  adopt  any  other  end  than  that 


15 


of  producing  scholars.  The  first  function  of  the  univer- 
sity is  to  see  that  the  race  of  scholars  shall  never  fail,  to 
inspire  and  train  men  who  shall  perpetuate  and  advance 
the  cause  of  learning.  And  it  is  of  fundamental  impor- 
tance that  this  shall  be  done,  and  that  a  fair  share,  at 
least,  of  the  very  ablest  and  most  capable  men  should  be 
led  to  devote  themselves  to  teaching  and  scholarship. 
Otherwise,  if  the  noblest  and  best  are  drawn  off  into  the 
practical  professions,  the  cause  of  learning  will  be  left 
to  the  spiritually  lame  and  halt,  the  mediocre,  cautious 
type  of  men  who  look  forward  merely  to  comfortable  po- 
sitions and  Carnegie  pensions.  But  after  the  demands  of 
scholarship  have  been  met,  still  the  business  in  life  of  the 
majority  of  the  students  will  be  to  apply  ideas  in  vari- 
ous fields.  This  fact,  however,  is  no  argument  for  low- 
ering the  intellectual  standards  of  the  university  in  their 
case  or  for  the  assumption  that  knowledge  and  scholar- 
ship are  for  them  of  secondary  importance.  For  the  uni- 
versity becomes  false  to  its  essential  function  as  soon  as 
learning  is  subordinated  to  any  other  end.  When  a  uni- 
versity becomes  a  social  club,  or  depends  for  its  support 
on  the  reputation  of  its  athletic  teams,  it  has  ceased  to 
be  a  university,  and  should  surrender  its  charter  as  an 
institution  of  learning. 

^Moreover,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  the  men 
who  are  to  go  out  into  the  world  to  administer  its  practical 
affairs  should  be  imbued  with  a  loyalty  to  truth  and 
a  passion  for  light  and  clearness  of  ideas.  If  we  would 
train  men  for  the  state,  let  us  not  forget  that  this 
is  what  the  affairs  of  the  state  demand :  the  clear-headed 
courage  that  comes  from  loyalty  to  truth,  the  patience  and 
resolution  that  proceed  from  a  faith  in  principles,  the  fine 
sense  of  justice  that  can  only  be  maintained  by  the  man 
who  has  learned  to  rise  above  his  own  individual  point 
of  view  and  to  understand  the  true  objective  relations  of 
things.  To  develop  character  by  implanting  a  reverence 
for  truth,  and  a  desire  to  serve  under  her  banner,  to 
awaken  in  their  students  a  love  of  light  and  a  passion  for 


16 


clear  and  distinct  ideas,  this  is  the  high  duty  of  universi- 
ties. If  it  is  true  that  this  aim  has  been  somewhat  obscured 
of  late,  if,  growing  skeptical  of  the  value  of  ideas,  we  have 
put  moral  training  and  social  experience  and  other  false 
gods  in  the  place  of  truth,  then  we  must  put  away  these 
idols  from  amongst  us,  and  remember  the  high  vocation 
unto  which  we  are  called.  But  is  this  practical,  it  may  be 
asked  ?  Must  not  the  university  conform  to  the  conditions 
and  needs  of  the  country,  and  is  not  the  demand  of  the 
country  for  practical,  efficient  men?  Well,  what  is  the 
test  of  efficiency?  It  is  surely  to  be  rated  not  primarily 
by  the  quantity  or  amount  of  the  activity,  but  rather  by 
the  quality  of  the  end  achieved;  not  by  the  sensational 
character  of  the  immediate  results,  but  by  the  permanent 
value  of  that  which  has  been  realized.  If,  then,  we  insist 
that  we  must  look  to  the  end  in  defining  efficiency,  it  is 
certainly  true  that  to  train  and  discipline  the  intellectual 
faculties,  awaken  the  desire  to  see  things  clearly  and  to 
see  them  whole,  is  in  the  highest  sense  to  promote  effi- 
ciency. The  university  can  have  no  higher  or  more  prac- 
tical function  than  to  implant  in  its  students  the  love  of 
reality  and  truth,  and  the  hatred  of  falsehood  and  shams. 
The  object  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  society  is  the  promo- 
tion of  the  spirit  of  liberal  scholarship.  More  particu- 
larly, as  I  understand,  it  stands  for  literature  in  the 
broadest  sense,  for  the  humanistic  studies  that  deal  with 
the  immaterial  achievements  of  man's  intellect.  It  is 
especially  in  these  fields,  however,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
maintain  an  invigorating  intellectual  atmosphere  at  the 
present  time.  There  seem  to  be  wanting  to  the  repre- 
sentatives of  these  branches  of  learning  two  sources  of 
encouragement  and  stimulus  that  are  enjoyed  by  the 
workers  in  the  natural  sciences.  These  are,  first,  the 
consciousness  of  the  immediate  applicability  of  their  re- 
sults to  the  practical  interests  of  mankind ;  and,  secondly, 
the  courage  and  confidence  that  come  from  success^  in 
actually  advancing  the  confines  of  knowledge  and  making 
absolutely  new  discoveries.  The  scientific  worker  has  the 


i 


17 

advantage  over  his  colleague  who  is  a  humanist,  also 
in  the  more  general  recognition  of  the  importance  of  his 
results  on  the  part  of  the  public.  Science  may  have  its 
uses,  and  if  it  does  not  gp  too  far  afield  it  may  be  tolerated 
by  the  practical  spirit  /but  letters  and  liberal  culture  the 
practical  man  regards  as  something  weak  and  effeminate, 
something  not  worthy  of  the  attention  of  serious,  grown-up 
men.  ,Even  if  it  be  desirable  that  students  in  the  earlier 
years  of  their  course  should  get  a  taste  of  language  or 
literature  or  philosophy,  it  is  felt  by  many  that  in  their 
later  years  they  should  devote  themselves  to  something 
more  serious,  if  possible  to  studies  bearing  on  some  voca- 
tion. We  find  a  striking  picture  of  this  attitude  toward 
liberal  study  in  the  ' '  Gorgias. ' '  (MUcles,  a  Sophist  of  the 
worst  type,  remonstrates  with  Socrates  on  continuing  to 
waste  his  time  on  a  useless  study  like  philosophy. 

" Philosophy, "  he  says,  "as  a  part  of  education  is  an  excellent  thing; 
and  there  is  no  disgrace  to  a  man  while  he  is  young  in  pursuing  such  a 
study;  but  when  he  is  older  the  thing  becomes  ridiculous,  and  I  feel  toward 
philosophers  as  I  do  toward  those  that  lisp  and  imitate  children.  .  .  .  When 
I  see  a  youth  continuing  the  study  in  later  life  and  not  leaving  off,  I  should 
like  to  beat  him,  Socrates ;  for,  as  I  was  saying,  such  a  one,  even  if  he  have 
good  parts,  becomes  effeminate.  .  .  .  What  is  the  value  of  an  art  that  con- 
verts a  man  of  sense  into  a  fool?  Then  take  my  advice,  learn  the  philosophy 
of  business,  and  leave  to  others  these  absurdities;  for  they  will  only  bring 
you  to  poverty.  Take  for  your  model,  not  these  word-splitters,  but  solid,  re- 
spectable men  of  business  who  have  shown  their  wisdom  by  becoming  well 
to  do." 

The  reproach  that  liberal  culture  is  useless  and  effemi- 
nate, then,  is  not  peculiar  to  our  time,  but  represents  the 
universal  estimate  of  all  those  who  apply  a  purely  worldly 
standard  of  value.  But  there  always  has  existed 
another  standard  of  what  is  worth  while  in  human  life; 
and  on  the  maintenance  of  that  standard  the  cause  of 
civilization  rests.  The  teachers  of  the  humanities  at  the 
present  time  have  need  of  all  their  courage  in  order  to 
stand  firmly  and  aggressively  against  the  Philistinism  that 
nowadays  vaunts  itself  in  high  places.  They  must  re- 
fuse to  compromise  with  the  enemy,  or  to  accept  some  in- 
ferior post  in  order  to  be  kept  alive,  but  continue  to  do 


18 


battle  for  the  supremacy  of  man's  spiritual  ideals.  And 
to  carry  on  this  work  in  the  universities  there  is  need  of 
recruits,  men  of  imagination  and  brains,  "the  fairest  of 
our  youth/'  as  Plato  says,  "men  sound  in  mind  and  wind, 
with  a  quick  apprehension,  a  good  memory,  and  a  manly 
and  lofty  spirit."  To  such  men  the  old  call  is  still  ring- 
ing out :  Who  will  go  up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the 
mighty?  We  cannot  doubt  that  the  universities  will  pro- 
duce a  breed  of  men  to  carry  on  this  work.  The  fight  is 
not  over.  It  would  be  pessimistic  to  cry,  "Zeus  is  now 
dethroned  and  Vortex  reigns  in  his  stead. ' ' 

The  representative  of  the  humanities,  therefore,  who 
recognizes  the  full  significance  of  his  own  work,  has  cer- 
tainly not  less  real  or  solid  grounds  for  enthusiasm  than 
his  colleague  who  occupies  himself  with  science.  For  it 
is  his  mission  to  carry  knowledge  to  its  fullest  and  highest 
fruition,  to  interpret  man  to  himself  in  the  light  of  his 
past  achievements  and  history.  Knowledge  is  only  real 
and  genuine  when  it  takes  the  form  of  self-knowledge. 
It  is  only  then  that  it  becomes  human  and  liberating,  that 
it  is  the  truth  that  makes  us  free.  And  in  order  to  know 
one's  self  as  human,  it  is  necessary  to  know  humanity. 
"What  should  they  know  of  England  who  only  England 
know?"  Kipling  asks.  Similarly,  to  know  one's  own 
mind,  involves  an  understanding  of  what  mind  has 
achieved  and  become.  In  order  to  become  rational  and 
human,  the  individual  must  go  beyond  himself  and  enter 
into  the  heritage  that  belongs  to  him  as  a  member  of  the 
family  of  rational  beings.  Culture  is  defined  by  Matthew 
Arnold  as  the  effort  to  know  the  best  that  has  been  thought 
and  said  in  the  world.  This,  of  course,  implies  more 
than  a  process  of  passive  acquisition  of  foreign  material. 
What  we  have  inherited  from  the  past  we  have  to  make 
our  own,  employing  it  as  the  means  for  the  promotion  of 
our  total  perfection,  as  Arnold  tells  us.  The  humanist 
accordingly  has  the  duty  of  making  the  past  live  again, 
not  of  mechanically  reproducing  its  accidental  and  tem- 
poral aspects,  but  of  interpreting  it  in  terms  of  its  perma- 


19 

nent  and  eternal  significance.  And,  as  this  work  must 
be  done  by  each  age  in  the  light  of  its  own  problems  and 
conditions,  it  demands  powers  that  are  at  once  creative 
and  critical.  Indeed,  all  true  criticism  is  at  the  same  time 
creative.  The  genuine  humanist,  then,  like  the  real  sci- 
entist, is  not  deprived  of  the  inspiration  that  comes  from 
creative  activity.  He  is  called  upon  to  advance  knowl- 
edge, to  contribute  to  the  sum-total  of  ideas.  The  func- 
tion which  he  is  called  upon  to  perform  is  to  contribute 
to  the  solution  of  that  most  difficult  and  fundamental  of 
human  problems,  the  problem  of  self-knowledge.  It  is 
the  most  difficult,  for  it  is  the  all-inclusive  problem,  be- 
ing the  interpretation  of  reason  by  reason.  It  is  the  most 
important,  for  only  so  far  as  the  mind  knows  itself  is  it 
free.  The  history  of  the  human  race,  as  Hegel  says,  is 
the  development  of  the  consciousness  of  freedom.  Or, 
in  other  words,  it  is  the  development  of  the  consciousness 
of  the  true  end  and  destiny  of  man  that  constitutes  the 
real  education  of  both  the  individual  and  the  race. 

Philosophy  thus  becomes  the  pilot  of  life  in  the  highest 
and  most  complete  sense  when  the  desire  for  wisdom  and 
enlightenment  enters  into  mind  as  its  dominant  and  con- 
trolling purpose.  This  motive,  at  its  highest  and  best, 
includes  within  itself  the  outer  life  of  practice  as  its 
necessary  means  of  realization  and  mode  of  expression. 
Truth  can  only  be  realized  through  contact  with  the  ob- 
jective world,  and  through  sympathy  and  appreciation  of 
the  thoughts  of  our  fellow-men.  The  intellectual  life  is 
not  something  isolated  and  abstract,  something  opposed 
or  antagonistic  to  the  virtues  of  practical  life.  The 
scholar  cannot  be  essentially  self -centered  or  selfish,  or  a 
man  of  cowardly  spirit  or  low  passions.  In  so  far  as 
these  things  enter  into  a  man,  they  destroy  his  enthusi- 
asm for  truth  and  warp  and  pervert  his  ideas.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  the  desire  for  light  and  wisdom  becomes 
the  controlling  principle  of  life,  all  the  lower  passions 
and  desires  are  dried  up  at  the  roots.  The  practical  life 
becomes  the  means  and  instrument  of  reason,  its  impulses 


20 

and  activities  being  tested  and  evaluated  in  the  light  of 
the  most  complete  knowledge  that  is  attainable.     And, 
finally,  the  more  we  reflect,  the  more  firmly  will  we  be  con- 
vinced that  devotion  to  truth,  " loyalty  to  loyalty,"  in  Pro-  \ 
fessor  Koyce's  fine  phrase,  is  the  only  soil  from  which  the  J 
other  virtues  can  spring.    For  if  this  be  lacking,  if  a  man 
be  indifferent  to  truth,  regarding  it  as  a  thing  of  no 
practical  importance,  there  is  remaining  no  longer  any 
center  or  core  of  personality,  to  which  a  consistent  or  a 
coherent  character  might  attach.     To  be  disloyal  to  our 
own  best  convictions,  then,  is  the  only  skepticism  that  we 
need  to  dread.     For  this  is  to  obscure  the  very  fountain-  \ 
light  of  our  being,  to  cherish  "the  lie  in  the  soul,"  as  I 
Plato  puts  it,  which  destroys  and  corrupts  the  entire/ 
character. 

J.  E.  CREIGHTON. 
CORNELL  UNIVERSITY. 


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